The Grand Babylon Hotel Arnold Bennett (ebook reader web TXT) 📖

be smoked within the precincts of the Grand Babylon, not even by the proprietor of the Grand Babylon, and especially when all the guests are assembled in the portico. The fumes of it would ruin any hotel.”

Theodore Racksole laughingly lighted the Rothschild Havana which Babylon gave him, and they entered the hotel arm in arm. But no sooner had they mounted the steps than little Félix became the object of numberless greetings. It appeared that he had been highly popular among his quondam guests. At last they reached the managerial room, where Babylon was regaled on a chicken, and Racksole assisted him in the consumption of a bottle of Heidsieck Monopole, Carte d’Or.

“This chicken is almost perfectly grilled,” said Babylon at length. “It is a credit to the house. But why, my dear Racksole, why in the name of Heaven did you quarrel with Rocco?”

“Then you have heard?”

“Heard! My dear friend, it was in every newspaper on the Continent. Some journals prophesied that the Grand Babylon would have to close its doors within half a year now that Rocco had deserted it. But of course I knew better. I knew that you must have a good reason for allowing Rocco to depart, and that you must have made arrangements in advance for a substitute.”

“As a matter of fact, I had not made arrangements in advance,” said Theodore Racksole, a little ruefully; “but happily we have found in our second sous-chef an artist inferior only to Rocco himself. That, however, was mere good fortune.”

“Surely,” said Babylon, “it was indiscreet to trust to mere good fortune in such a serious matter?”

“I didn’t trust to mere good fortune. I didn’t trust to anything except Rocco, and he deceived me.”

“But why did you quarrel with him?”

“I didn’t quarrel with him. I found him embalming a corpse in the State bedroom one night⁠—”

“You what?” Babylon almost screamed.

“I found him embalming a corpse in the State bedroom,” repeated Racksole in his quietest tones.

The two men gazed at each other, and then Racksole replenished Babylon’s glass.

“Tell me,” said Babylon, settling himself deep in an easy chair and lighting a cigar.

And Racksole thereupon recounted to him the whole of the Posen episode, with every circumstantial detail so far as he knew it. It was a long and complicated recital, and occupied about an hour. During that time little Félix never spoke a word, scarcely moved a muscle; only his small eyes gazed through the bluish haze of smoke. The clock on the mantelpiece tinkled midnight.

“Time for whisky and soda,” said Racksole, and got up as if to ring the bell; but Babylon waved him back.

“You have told me that this Sampson Levi had an audience of Prince Eugen today, but you have not told me the result of that audience,” said Babylon.

“Because I do not yet know it. But I shall doubtless know tomorrow. In the meantime, I feel fairly sure that Levi declined to produce Prince Eugen’s required million. I have reason to believe that the money was lent elsewhere.”

“H’m!” mused Babylon; and then, carelessly, “I am not at all surprised at that arrangement for spying through the bathroom of the State apartments.”

“Why are you not surprised?”

“Oh!” said Babylon, “it is such an obvious dodge⁠—so easy to carry out. As for me, I took special care never to involve myself in these affairs. I knew they existed; I somehow felt that they existed. But I also felt that they lay outside my sphere. My business was to provide board and lodging of the most sumptuous kind to those who didn’t mind paying for it; and I did my business. If anything else went on in the hotel, under the rose, I long determined to ignore it unless it should happen to be brought before my notice; and it never was brought before my notice. However, I admit that there is a certain pleasurable excitement in this kind of affair and doubtless you have experienced that.”

“I have,” said Racksole simply, “though I believe you are laughing at me.”

“By no means,” Babylon replied. “Now what, if I may ask the question, is going to be your next step?”

“That is just what I desire to know myself,” said Theodore Racksole.

“Well,” said Babylon, after a pause, “let us begin. In the first place, it is possible you may be interested to hear that I happened to see Jules today.”

“You did!” Racksole remarked with much calmness. “Where?”

“Well, it was early this morning, in Paris, just before I left there. The meeting was quite accidental, and Jules seemed rather surprised at meeting me. He respectfully inquired where I was going, and I said that I was going to Switzerland. At that moment I thought I was going to Switzerland. It had occurred to me that after all I should be happier there, and that I had better turn back and not see London any more. However, I changed my mind once again, and decided to come on to London, and accept the risks of being miserable there without my hotel. Then I asked Jules whither he was bound, and he told me that he was off to Constantinople, being interested in a new French hotel there. I wished him good luck, and we parted.”

“Constantinople, eh!” said Racksole. “A highly suitable place for him, I should say.”

“But,” Babylon resumed, “I caught sight of him again.”

“Where?”

“At Charing Cross, a few minutes before I had the pleasure of meeting you. Mr. Jules had not gone to Constantinople after all. He did not see me, or I should have suggested to him that in going from Paris to Constantinople it is not usual to travel via London.”

“The cheek of the fellow!” exclaimed Theodore Racksole. “The gorgeous and colossal cheek of the fellow!”

XXII In the Wine Cellars of the Grand Babylon

“Do you know anything of the antecedents of this Jules,” asked Theodore Racksole, helping himself to whisky.

“Nothing whatever,” said Babylon. “Until you told me, I don’t think I was aware that